| Subject: Chapter 225 - Part 1 (16 and above) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, February 27, 07:08:54am
In reply to:
Katherine Gilbert
's message, "Dreams in the Dark (chapters 221--?)" on Monday, February 13, 07:24:07am
Extra warning: There's some mild bad language here. I'll rate it 16 and above, just to be safe.
Dreams in the Dark (225/?)
by Katherine Gilbert
A few weeks passed quite peacefully for the couple after that--a welcome change, given all they had been through. But not for everyone was such contentment possible. Some of those associated with the pair were never guaranteed such a quiet time.
One of these groups was the assortment of lives which Helmut and Rene oversaw--their happiness fragile, at the best of times. Even when life seemed perfect, they tended to sleep with one eye open, always waiting for someone to discover and destroy the loves they had fought so strongly to guard. Yet another of these moments was upon them now, an old enemy resurfacing. It would only have made life easier, if she weren't being protected by Rene.
Anna's calm eyes kept up constant contact with her ex-husband's partner, almost seeming to challenge him to prove how good he was. But, given the pain she had already helped transfer to them--her part in being the disgusting Bauer's messenger, however half-willingly--he wasn't at all certain that he felt particularly virtuous at the moment.
It was almost three weeks since the attack on Michael and Nikita when the woman came to them on more of Bauer's orders--this time, at Rene's invitation, to their *home*--Helmut none-too-pleased with her presence. The poor couple he had devoted himself to protecting--one of many, these days--had, almost miraculously, made it through their ordeal, seemed to be healing nicely. They were in the final few days of finishing up their latest film, were facing life and the studio with a calm previously unknown to them. But these facts alone were not enough to comfort him now.
There were only a few seconds before Helmut answered his guest's last question, but his mind was slipping through many different thoughts during them. One of these was his lingering concern for the pair everyone seemed to enjoy targeting. While he was certainly relieved at their escape from the hands which had so tried to destroy them--still felt some lingering guilt at having chosen Fain to look after them, having had no idea of Jones's plans to blackmail the man--such salvation somehow seemed all too convenient. Even if he wanted to believe in happy endings, it was difficult to credit. There were very few of those where the "businessman" was concerned.
He managed not to sneer, as thoughts of Nikita's true father flashed through his mind, difficult though that was. He could never understand any of the man's actions. While it was unlikely that he himself would ever father a child--at least, not without very deliberate calculation--he could never comprehend Jones's loathsomely cold-blooded approach to his daughter. Nikita was beautiful, her soul so loving and strong. It was difficult to imagine why any father would wish to destroy every bit of happiness she had found.
It wasn't a simple sort of admiration he had for the woman--still amazed at all she had endured. Her joy had been hard-purchased--her earlier life with a syphilitic mother better if not thought about too closely. And the changes she had wrought in Michael were extraordinary ones. She had taken an insular, even a cold, man--one who seemed permanently mired in grief and guilt--and had opened him easily, approaching him as though that weren't an utter impossibility. That the pair who had both been through so much had found happiness, love, and true respect in each other seemed a miracle; the thoughts soured. Why any man would wish to destroy such a blessing was beyond him still.
He would never be able to understand such a motive from any man fully, was simply too decent. But at least he could vaguely comprehend it from someone as loathsome as, the thankfully deceased, Hillinger--whose motivations clearly stemmed entirely from sadism and the revolting desires of a rapist. But from a father--even one as admittedly immoral as Jones--such intentions seemed unthinkable. Why in God's man would any man wish to destroy all the happiness of his beautiful child?
This was a question he had never had an answer to, one he occasionally decided must have something to do with being heterosexual. Certainly, all the fathers of this sort that he had known of--Jones and the unregrettably-late George primary among them--showed no signs of the sexual tendencies he himself had always felt so strongly. George's own, sickening inclination toward children of either sex didn't count; Helmut had never known anyone in his culture who desired children above men. His sigh went deep. But he supposed, in the end, that such speculation did no more justice to the heterosexual half of the world than the reverse did to his own.
He pushed aside all attempts to understand such men, therefore, knowing it wasn't possible. There were, simply put, some very deranged souls out there. The things they then did to others were utterly unfathomable to anyone with even an ounce of sanity.
This only left one more concern about the poor couple all plots had centered on, of late--his gaze digging into the current messenger from yet another filthy man. As happy as he was at the outcome of the attack, at the fact that the pair seemed to be safe, it had--for all its pain and trauma for the couple--been far too easy. If Jones had gone so far as to threaten Fain into action on his behalf, he wanted something out of it. And Helmut feared quite deeply that they had yet to discover what that was.
He let out a very quiet sigh, as these musings ceased their momentary ramblings through his brain--focusing once again on the problem before him; his eyebrow raised. And she was a problem in an obvious little dress and knowing smile, her legs crossed in one of his chairs as though she intended to entice someone. He had no idea who, in this room. Still, as he watched the cigarette poised between her fingers, her ever-calm expression, he felt more than a little disgust. And the message she had brought did little to win his affection any further.
His gaze tore into her, disliking her more by the second--helped not at all by the fact that she was his Rene's ex-wife, however much of a sham that marriage might have been. She had just finished giving them her employer's latest offer, Bauer's new intention to have both the banker and the designer as his slaves--his knowledge of their relationship his constant bargaining chip; the fact that he wanted them to choose who was first only added to Helmut's comprehension of the producer's ever-present sadism. It sickened the woman's unwilling host, tired to death of these little games; his eyes burned. And he had every intention of stopping this one right here.
There was no way this could go on, indeed. He was sick of Bauer believing that he could blackmail them about their love--when that man's own, regular actions involved murder and degradation of the soul on the most gruesome levels. Still, that he had now offered to keep quiet, if either he or Rene gave themselves to him . . .
No. His disgust roiled. He would have none of this--his glare cutting into the man's messenger like a very sharp knife, his intention adamantine. No matter what it cost him, neither he nor the man he loved would ever be forced to whore themselves to a freak such as this.
He cut straight to something like the plan that he and his partner had formed, even if it was with none of the tact Anna's ex-husband would have used. "How much money would it take to buy your loyalty?"
There was a slight laugh from the woman in return, her eyes no more welcoming than the banker's. "You think I'm that easy a whore?" Her host didn't answer, making her laugh again--continuing before Rene could break in to play negotiator, her disgust quite clear. "Too late. Bauer's already paid."
"An-na . . .," the man she still loved tried to calm her. But his presence in the room seemed only an afterthought to both sides now.
Neither of them heard the one person they cared for, their battle raging--Helmut's dislike of her all too clear. "I don't blame you. He probably pays well." She snorted, forcing him on--even as his partner tried, unheeded, to stop him. He saw the woman purposely flick her ever-present cigarette on his very expensive oriental rug and felt the wrath rise all the higher. "I do hope you're not sleeping with him, or you might find that you've caught something it's very difficult to get rid of."
Lord, this was getting *very* annoying. Rene sighed, rolling his eyes, having collapsed back into his seat in defeat--sick to death of feeling like some toy two willful, petty children were arguing over. They were making it clear that their true desire in all of this had already been forgotten, the argument more about rivalry itself now than about anything they might originally have wanted; his words were a mutter under his breath. "Like stupidity?"
Surprisingly, it was this, well-timed, comment which brought back the two combatants slightly, Anna laughing again, as her eyes cut over to the designer before finding her host; there was some sort of laughter in them now, ironic though it might be. "How strange." The laugh deepened. "I didn't know it was possible to have a cat fight with a man."
Despite himself, Helmut laughed--her barb cutting through the fog of dislike--forcing him to see how stupid, how unlike himself, he was being; his gaze dropped, understanding the truth. Anna was right; he *was* jealous. His head shook. Although, for the life of him, he really couldn't have said why.
It took him a second, but he did look back over to his partner, his eyes apologetic; Rene shrugged, still annoyed but letting it go--and Helmut was left with his own inner struggle to understand, as he focused back on the woman. Perhaps it was just that she had been close to the designer first or that the man still seemed to care for her--but he knew this was foolish, nonetheless. Rene loved *him*, not Anna or any other woman or man--especially a woman. Still, there was something about the situation which was uncomfortable, goading him; his finger tapped a few times against the arm of his chair. He just wished he understood what it was.
There was a silence between the pair which left him a moment to think--and the answer was stunningly obvious, once he came to it. Even though he was unsure if Rene's marriage to Anna had ever been consummated, he *was* a little jealous of her. After all, if his beloved suddenly decided he wanted to go back to her, he would have nothing to fight with. It was probably a difference of bodily parts he couldn't match--and children the woman could give; he shook his head, gaze dropping. But the fact that none of this was what his Rene dreamed of had meant nothing to him for a second.
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